


UPLIINK

by mulattafury



Series: UPLIINK [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Nuclearstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:04:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulattafury/pseuds/mulattafury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being an Air Force guinea pig might not be the safest job, but in a troll-inhabited Earth rife with inter-species tension, the benefits outweigh the risks for test pilot Sollux Captor. But when development on a cutting-edge stealth fighter is mysteriously terminated, Sollux is assigned to a new project that has him wondering what, exactly, the military has locked away.</p><p>Enlisting the help of brilliant electronics engineer (and previous academy rival) Roxy Lalonde, the two follow breadcrumb trails to secrets way above their pay grade in a search to find the true source of this new technology, what it really means for the military, and what it really means for Sollux.</p><p>Based on the Nuclearstuck AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [love and caring](https://archiveofourown.org/works/463492) by [hupsoonheng](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hupsoonheng/pseuds/hupsoonheng). 



> This is actually a lead-in to an rp/collaborative thing that I'll be posting as it's completed. Nuclearstuck [http://nuclearstuck.tumblr.com] is pretty much required reading to understand this AU.

_Ψ:// {un*th0ri2ed acc//e22 d*tected}_  
 _Ψ:// --{CRITICAL BR--EACH: M//(ANUAL FLIIGHT 2Ψ2T--EM2 OVE[RRID3}_  
 _Ψ:// OV--ERRIDE  
_ _Ψ:// {acce22 granted}_

“Damn, they’ve stripped this thing out since the last time I saw it...”

“Yeah, Materiel Command is always itching to get their hands on whatever they can take apart. Spending billions of Uncle Sam’s dollars on those shiny new aircraft that only the bugs can fly.”

“At least it keeps our boys out of enemy crosshairs...”

_Ψ:// {awAIITIING C*(OMMAND}_

“Kind of surprised this thing can still power up. Just imagine what we could do with this kind of energy.”

“Maybe it won’t be long. The eggheads up in Dayton are starting to think they got what it takes to make this bird fly for our side.”

_Ψ:// ---_  
 _Ψ:// {}[[aΨaiiting CCoMMAND  
_ _Ψ:// --EMPRE22_

“What the hell is... look at this console, can you make heads or tails of this?”

_Ψ:// ALERT_  
 _Ψ:// {UNAU(THHORI2--ED 2UB[[ORBIITAL D--E2CENT}}{_  
 _Ψ:// ALERT_  
 _Ψ:// CRIITIC4L SΨ22TEM2 F--4ILURE;;;;; CR----EW OFFL!NE_

“You know I can’t read this chicken scratch. The systems are probably going nuts, this thing hasn’t powered up in years. Besides, it’s our job to transport the ship, not to understand it.”

“Yeah... hey, so do you know what even happened to the poor bastard they pulled out of here when it was recovered?”

“Don’t think he kicked around too long after. Military’s always been interested in his spawn, though, hear they got one of his brood fenced up at Wright-Patterson.”

_Ψ:// [[G--ENER((aL DI2TRE22 B34C))*N ONLIINE{_  
 _Ψ:// ALERT_  
 _Ψ:// CRIITIC4L 2Y2--EM2 INACTIIV--3 FOR 27 SW--3300071[[_  
 _Ψ:// ALERT  
_ _Ψ:// N0 FL--EET ACTIIVII[7Y DETECT--ED IIN TH[[2 2ECT[]R_

“Wright-Patterson? That’s where this wreck’s headed, right, Commander?”

“Yep. They’ve put together some hotshot new team, seasoned technicians backed up by some of the best new graduates out of the academy. They’re gonna tear this sucker apart.”

_Ψ:// {awaIItiing c0mmand}_  
 _Ψ:// {empre22}_  
 _Ψ:// {]]H3L[[P.me]]_

\- - - - - -

Today is a test flight day.

Sollux Captor absolutely lives for test flight days.

His status as a Materiel Command test pilot sounds interesting enough, perhaps. Mention it without a lot of explanation, and civilians fill in the blanks with images of sleek, futuristic military aircraft, of blinking dials and gauges around a brave young pilot as he blasts through the sound barrier, adrenaline surging in his brain, pulling slick maneuvers and putting the machine through her paces to make flight safer for all the military’s airmen.

Hell, mentioning that he can power, maneuver, and control the aircraft with his mind is usually enough to get him laid.

The reality of it is that, most of the time, the job is absolutely mind-numbing, except for the days when it’s excruciating. Sollux usually spends his workdays not piloting cutting-edge aircraft, but hooked into flight sims, running through psionic systems calibrations that human test pilots can’t do. The grating monotony is occasionally broken up by the prototyping of new hardware, which in its early phases tends to be hacked together from existing systems, by scientists with little to no understanding of troll physiology and getting zero actual input from actual trolls in their most critical stages of development.

Those days are the absolute worst, leaving Sollux drained and weak after endless hours of trial and error, troubleshooting and fine-tuning until the development teams have a foundation they can actually work from. Not once in his career has this process actually produced a more intuitive psionic-operated flight system, but at least by the time the guys on active duty are being trained in the new systems, they’re usable.

Well, for all that “not actively causing unbearable migraines and/or full-body tremors” can be considered “usable.”

But all of it, the monotony and the repetition and even the grueling test hardware, seems worthwhile to endure when they finally manage to get an aircraft to test phase.

Anything, anything is worth it when he gets to fly.

And that’s why Sollux is nearly bouncing (and is literally hovering a good six inches off the ground) when he reports to the airfield, fingers tightening in a deathgrip on his flight helmet at the sight of the new aircraft ready to go on the runway. It’s a multirole stealth fighter, a modification of the F-35 that’s taken on the nickname “Psyclone.”

Single pilot.

Just the thought of such a potentially mission-critical tactical aircraft designed for a single psionic pilot was exciting enough on its own, and Sollux’s mind was buzzing at the promise of being the first to actually fly it.

“Airman Captor!”

Sollux’s feet hit the ground at the sound of Staff Sergeant Lancaster’s voice, and he turns to greet the woman with a sharp salute. She’s tall, for a human, sharp and lean, with narrow eyes that watch like a hawk and dark hair buzzed nearly bald. It’s amazing how she manages to be imposing, even with the troll standing a good six inches over her, but Sollux would never question it.

“At ease, Captor, I’m just handing down new orders.”

“New orders, ma’am? I’m supposed to fly Psyclone today.”

“There’s been a change of plans. You are to report immediately to the research lab.”

It’s everything Sollux can do to keep the crushing disappointment from showing on his face. He takes a measured breath, brow creasing as he glances back at the new jet sitting lonely on the runway.

“Research... which research lab?”

“Sensors Directorate.”

“What? I mean. Is there something wrong with the aircraft?”

“The Psyclone project has been postponed until further notice.”

“But... no, that can’t be right. Ma’am, that can’t be right, Psyclone is in testing phase, that’s--” he turns to point at the aircraft. “That’s her, right there on the runway. I’m-- I was. Supposed to fly her today.”

A frown sets across Lancaster’s lips. Sollux nearly shivers.

“Are you questioning your orders, Airman?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You are to report to the lab immediately, Captor. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Dismissed.”

\- - - - -

The ride to the sensors lab is a short one, but crammed into the backseat of the transport van, nursing the fresh sting of being denied the test flight he’d been anticipating for months, it feels like an eternity to Sollux. It’s one of those rare moments when he’s almost glad that he doesn’t have his own car, since he’s not too sure he wouldn’t point it at the nearest cliff right about now.

Not that he knows where he might find the nearest vehicle-accessible cliff, but by god he’d try.

“What’s going on back there, Captor?”

Sollux looks up to see the driver watching him in the rear-view mirror, worried, wrinkled brown eyes reflected in the glass. The retired major has been driving the shuttle since Sollux was first stationed at Wright-Patt, and while the man’s vaguely paternal demeanor had seemed off-putting and alien to Sollux at first, now it’s just another one of those small comforts he’s glad for.

“Nothing, Major Lewis,” Sollux lies, pouting and turning his gaze to the window.

“Don’t lie to me, Captor, when I picked you up this morning you were nearly glowing.”

Lewis’s deep, good-natured laugh is infectious, and Sollux can’t help quirking his lips in a sad little smile.

“Just one of those days, Major. Not quite going as planned. Hey...” He scoots forward as much as he can, resting his arms on the back of the empty passenger seat. “Have you heard anything around about the Psyclone project?”

“Psyclone? The new stealth fighter? That’s what they got you on, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Is it in trouble?”

Lewis frowns, dark fingers stroking over his greying mustache as he thinks.

“Well I haven’t heard much about it directly, but I think Sensors has been working on something big.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, got a lot of new personnel over there. Saw them bring in some kind of shipment a few weeks ago. I know they’ve put together a new research team, pulled some of the brightest new grads from electronics and munitions.”

“And they’re doing this at the sensors directorate? You’re sure?”

“Mmmhm. Seen Miss Lalonde’s motorbike parked over there this morning.”

Sollux perks up visibly at that, and the man laughs.

“I-it’s just weird they’d have her working over there, is all,” Sollux stammers, turning to the window again with a frown. “Well dang, Major, there goes my hope that there was just some kind of bug or bureaucratic hangup.”

“Yeah, son, looks like they’re putting you back up in the lab.”

Sollux groans, face hidden in his crossed arms, and sits back up just in time for the van to roll to a stop in front of the facility. It does bring a small smile to his lips to see an unmistakable pink motorcycle parked in the lot.

“Thanks for the ride, Major.”

“Just doing my job, son. Give ‘em hell.”

Sollux makes his way into the research facility, the thrill and anticipation of the morning’s test flight finally fading completely and leaving behind only disappointment and frustration. He’s making the familiar route to the lab, flashing his ID at familiar checkpoints, giving nods to familiar guards and by the time he actually gets to the lab he already hates this day and it hasn’t even started.

The bright overhead lights and humming computer stations are a stark exchange from rushing winds and the deafening roar of aircraft. Sollux tries not to sigh when he notices his flight sim station is powered up. Damn, he’s spent so many hours plugged into that thing it’s like a second home.

“Morning, Captor.”

The project director seems almost as flustered and confused as Sollux, pushing his bifocals up on the bridge of his nose as he thumbs through what looks like a new set of schematics on his tablet.

“Morning, Dr. Yorke. Maybe you can tell me what’s going on, I’m--”

The doctor sighs, shaking his head and running a hand through thinning hair.

“I’m sorry. The Psyclone project has been postponed until further notice.”

“You’re shitting me. That aircraft was in test phase! That’s... that’s billions of dollars, just...”

“Trust me, Captor, no one wanted to see that bird fly as much as I did.”

“And no one wanted to fly her as much as me.”

There’s a moment of silence as the doctor and his star test pilot mourn the project, snatched from them with success just within reach.

“So... what’s the next phase, doctor? They haven’t told me anything.”

“Well. You’re not gonna like this, but we’ve got some new experimental hardware--”

“Of course.”

“We’ve got a new research team coming in, and--”

“Yep.”

“It’s our new top priority.”

“Well, let’s get to it.”

And then he’s strapped into the simulator, like any other day, though his regular custom flight helmet is replaced by some new device they’ve rigged up. It displays a readout across his goggles, which seems like it will be odd getting used to, and feeds directly into the navigation and control systems. The oddest part, though, is that it fits comfortably over his horns, as though it were actually designed with his mutation in mind.

“You ready to go, Captor?”

Sollux takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain that comes with using new, uncalibrated equipment.

“Yeah. Start her up.”

He closes his eyes, and... nothing. Damn, waiting could be the worst part. He barely has enough time to be nervous before he hears Yorke’s voice again.

“Startup successful.”

Sollux frowns.

“Are you sure? I-- oh sweet fuck.”

His eyes go wide as the uplink forms in his mind, effortless and smooth. He doesn’t really notice the data scrolling across the goggles -- actually, he’s not really seeing anything at all. The new system is transmitting all of the simulated data directly to his mind, arranging it piece by piece into information he processes as easy as breathing.

“Are you alright in there, Captor?”

“Yeah. Yeah...”

He tries to go through the motions -- starting up, shutting down, checking the equipment, testing the controls. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt. Instead of monitoring countless individual readings, he just.. knows them. Feels them, somehow, innately understands them in some part of his mind he’s never accessed or understood. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not even uncomfortable. In fact it feels... good. Unbelievably good, on some strange, primal level. It’s like he’s satisfying some imperative, like he’s supposed to be doing this, like he was made for this...

“Doctor? Doctor get me out of here...”

He’s nearly shaking by the time the system has safely shut down, lifting himself out of the sim station and removing his helmet with a ragged sigh.

“That bad, Captor?”

Sollux shakes his head, stepping away from the station as Yorke’s research assistants collect and record the system’s data.

“No. No, that?” He points at the station, a broad grin spreading across his lips. “That needs to be in an aircraft. Can I see the schematics?”

Before Yorke can object, Sollux has snatched up the tablet, swiping through the panels that lay out this unbelievable new tech. The doctor tries to take it back, but Sollux is hovering upside-down and just out of reach, beaming as he pages through the documents.

“This is incredible. This is incredible, you guys haven’t used anything like this before. Wait... this came from Edwards?”

“Airman, get -down!-” Yorke hisses.

“Seriously, if you could get a flight system like this in the Psyclone, it’d--”

Yorke manages to snag one of the pockets of Sollux’s flight suit, tugging it sharply downward. Sollux notices that the doctor’s round face is burning red, and his own face falls when he sees the seething scowl fixed on him from the doorway.

He’s only met General Crowe once, but once was enough to know that the AFRL Commander’s ire was something to avoid, especially in light of the fact that he was quite vocal about his displeasure with the amount of the defense budget that went towards developing equipment, munitions, and vehicles specifically for trolls.

Crowe is broad-shouldered and heavyset, with stern grey eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. He’s the sort who commands a room with all the confidence and authority of a man with too much power, the medals decorating his uniform gleaming beneath the overhead lights as he crosses the lab.

 

“At attention, soldier,” the man hisses, and Sollux shoves the tablet back into Dr. Yorke’s hands, righting himself quickly to salute the general.

“What’s your name and rank, boy?”

“Sir! PSII-Tactics Airman First Class Sollux Captor, 88th Test Wing, sir!”

The general laughs, in that certain, dismissive sort of way that Sollux has come to recognize as laughing at his lisp.

“So you’re Sollux Captor. Can you not talk straight, Airman?”

Sollux sets his jaw. “No, sir.”

“At ease, Airman.”

Sollux clasps his hands behind his back, and it’s all he can do to keep them from shaking with rage.

“What is it you do here?”

“I aid and assist the Sensors Directorate scientists in developing flight systems technology for military psionics, sir!”

“And why were you selected for this position?”

“I-- because my psionic capabilities exceed the median average of others my age in magnitude, duration, and precision, and my education in aeronautic--”

“Let me stop you right there, son. We... indulge you, Captor, because you’ve somehow got a better battery installed than all the other lightning bugs in our service. Understand?”

Sollux grits his teeth, drawing in a sharp breath.

“I asked you a question, soldier.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So I think you need to get back to your job, Captor, and let the men with academy degrees do the thinking.”

“Permission to speak, sir.”

Crowe laughs again. “Go ahead.”

“The modifications I made to the Psyclone schematics pushed development ahead by four months. Sir.”

“I remember those modifications...” the general steps closer to Sollux, eyes burning into his. “The team that signed off on that report didn’t mention your involvement at all.”

“Well, not officially, because--”

“Because the DoD is not going to greenlight a stealthfighter designed by a smartass bug, are they, Captor?”

Sollux’s eye twitches and his hands clench and it takes every bit of self control to keep the rage spiking in his brain from manifesting in visible psionic sparks. His eyes close, but not in time to hide that faint glow. The general smirks.

“I asked you a question, soldier.”

“No, sir.”

“Now why don’t you get back to work, son. This project is top priority and if I so much as hear that you’ve been violating procedure, I’ll direct the disciplinary action against you myself. Are we clear, Airman Captor?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Dismissed.”

\- - - - -

It’s nearly dark when Sollux gets home, exhausted and drained in every possible way. The new system was a dream to use, but any joy he may have had from that is crushed under every fucking other thing that had happened throughout the day.

A hot shower and a quick meal and things still aren’t looking much better, and as he stands on his tiny porch, taking a long drag from a much-needed cigarette, he scrolls through the contacts on his phone. He smiles a little when he highlights one “Lalalalonde,” leaning back against the wall as he taps out a text message.

_wor2t day ever at work. ii need two be 2wiimmiing iin booze by o-now-hundred hour2. you iin?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roxy has a considerably better day at work than Sollux, and lets him know it.

For Roxy Lalonde, the military had been an escape from a shattered family and a grim future.

They had sent her to school, six years at the academy transforming raw talent into precision and skill. Then they’d sent her to Iraq, eighteen months of active duty, but in a relatively low-combat zone. She had internet access and hot showers through most of her deployment, and made it home with only a teensy bit of post-traumatic stress.

At first she’d been thrilled with her assignment to Materiel Command. She imagined she’d be working with some of the brightest minds in information technology, finally getting her career underway. She would even admit, occasionally, to being pleased that being at Wright-Patterson meant close proximity to the new PSII-Tactics research and development facilities, and by extension her old friend Sollux Captor.

But soon excitement gave way to bitter reality, and Roxy spent most of the next three years doing basic lab work for the information directorate. It wasn’t bad work, and it more than paid the bills for her off-base townhome, but to call it unfulfilling would be kind. Still it felt like being back in grad school, running tests and collecting data based on someone else’s ideas, and despite her requests for reassignment, for consideration for future projects or at the very least more authority in the projects where she was assigned, Roxy’s always felt like her potential has just been ignored.

It’s driven her to rage and to tears, and on more than one occasion to both, and she can’t say she’s proud of the nights she’s spent sobbing into Sollux’s chest, drunk beyond coherency, as he fights himself in his head about whether it would be okay to touch her. He’s always tried, bless him, to understand what she means when she says that science is a white boys’ club, and that she should have expected this, forcing herself in the way she did.

And on those nights, when she asks why she keeps going and he says because she has to, she _has_ to, whether out of determination or out of spite or just to make them have to waste their fucking time to tell her no, it can be easy to feel like her ambition is being deliberately crushed out of her.

Most of the time, though, it feels more like she’s being kept on ice. She can’t explain it, but she feels it, that sense of apprehension and anxiety despite countless disappointments, that feeling that she’s waiting for something, or maybe something’s waiting for her.

It’s late at night when she gets the call, requesting her presence at the sensors directorate the next morning for reassignment. By the time she hangs up, Roxy isn’t sure whether she’s dreaming, or why her hands are shaking, or if she’s getting too excited too fast, but what she does know is that she’s been waiting years for a break in her career and that this might finally be it.

The directorate has put together a fresh team for this project, a small group of researchers and engineers that Roxy has never met before. She’s sure she’s seen two of them around the base -- Dr. Phillip Hong, the project director, and Dr. Richard Morrow, both of them older and more seasoned scientists who seem to be there for their knowledge of policy and protocol at least as much as for their technical expertise.

The two younger scientists she’s never seen at all. Martin Korzhev and Dr. Elena Sandoval are both civilians, fresh graduates recruited for the program for their innovative studies into applied electromagnetics, Korzhev in computational science and Dr. Sandoval in biomed. It’s exciting to be working with a team of experts, and more exciting to be one of them. Roxy’s experience assisting with various projects in the information directorate, combined with her unwavering drive to prove herself amongst her peers, has left her with an unmatched familiarity with the nuances of the Air Force’s latest information technology, most especially in tactical airborne networks.

It’s a scattered, but highly specific assemblage of talent. When they’re briefed on the project, over weak coffee in a minimalistic boardroom, it soon becomes clear that nothing else would quite cut it for the nature of this assignment.

They’re presented with a set of schematics and data compiled by another team of researchers from the Edwards base, that outlines what appears to be a foreign piece of sensor and transmission technology. The device responds to electromagnetic impulses almost organically, and transmits information to an unknown receiver in much the same fashion. Their intent, Dr. Hong explains, is to research and hopefully replicate the technology, and to create a method by which its output renders usable data for tactical applications.

It’s kind of a rush, sitting on the board and creating a research plan for a project she’s actually interested in, and almost unreal to have her questions addressed, her ideas considered, her concerns documented and her intelligence acknowledged. Roxy hardly notices that General Crowe steps in briefly to observe the meeting, as caught up as she is in imagining her name on the project reports.

She’s exhausted by the end of the day, but a satisfied sort of exhausted from a day well-spent rather than the achy, beat-down sort of tired that comes from a job you hate. The windows of the flight sim lab are dark -- they’ve probably gone home for the day, so there’s not much chance of running into Sollux on the way to the parking lot. She lights a cigarette and takes her time, checking her phone as she makes her way to her parked motorcycle. There’s a text from Sollux, which makes her smile, though his infuriating way of typing immediately has her rolling her eyes.

:wor2t day ever at work. ii need two be 2wiimmiing iin booze by o-now-hundred hour2. you iin?

:ok catpor i think i can drop by adn listen to u bitch for a while. wats in it for me??

:how2 the 2atii2factiion that come2 from helpiing a friiend in need? ii2 that good enough for you lalonde?

:noep ur gonna hafta do better than that. we’ll negotiate on my arrival

:work2 for me

It’s about twenty minutes later when she slides her bike into the tiny parking lot in front of Sollux’s building. She’s always liked these apartments, the bi-level lofts that housed the higher-ranking psionics stationed on base. When Sollux first moved in she’d been a little jealous of him, getting to live in a nice single-occupancy apartment while she was still living in unaccompanied housing, but she supposed it made sense in the long run. After all, the psionic airmen couldn’t be expected to stay in the dorms forever, and living off-base usually wasn’t an option for them.

Not that the housing development had been entirely altruistic. At the end of the day, everything is about the bottom line, and requiring trolls above a certain pay grade to rent privatized housing means that the Air Force doesn’t have to pay to house them, and the property management company they contract collects a substantial paycheck from the growing number of psionics living on-base. Still, it means that Sollux has a nice place with high ceilings to buzz around in like a tool, so he really doesn’t have it too bad, all things considered.

Roxy stows her helmet away in one of the bike’s white leather saddlebags, slinging her purse and a paper shopping bag over one shoulder and heading up the walkway to Sollux’s door. He’d been almost freakishly excited, she remembers, to get unit number twenty-two.

He must have heard her bike pull into the parking lot, because when she gets there the door is open. Still, she knocks twice as a courtesy, as startling Sollux had never proven to be a good idea in the past.

“Captor?”

“I’m in the kitchen!”

“Of course you are.”

She drops her things on the couch on the way to the apartment’s tiny kitchen, where she’s greeted by the sight of Sollux, clad in pajama pants and an old PT shirt, slicing mushrooms at the counter.

“Damn, Sollux,” she grins, crossing her arms and leaning against the dining room wall. “Are you always eating?”

“Hey!” Sollux looks up long enough to stick out that freaky-looking forked tongue. “Good evening to you, too, Lalonde. I just thought I’d make us some dinner, you know. Make it worth your while for coming over here, since apparently commiserating about our jobs doesn’t do it for you anymore.”

“Really, now? Well I hate to tell you this, but I already have dinner plans for tonight! I was gonna come by your place regardless, since I need to change and you’re en route. Also,” she smirks. “ _I_ had an awesome day at work.”

Sollux tries not to look disappointed. It’s adorable.

“Well that means more for me, I guess. So you’re going out with your human boyfriend?”

“Yeah! We’re celebrating.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Oh man, I was hoping you were gonna ask me that, so we could talk about my awesome life and not your whiny bullshit. Hang on...”

Before he can complain she’s disappeared back into the living room, returning a moment later to sling her right arm around Sollux’s waist and shove her left hand into his face, the third finger now bearing a diamond-studded ring. He looks confused, setting the knife down to grab her flailing hand so he can actually see what she’s trying to show him.

“What?” He says, trying to casually slip her arm from around him, awkward as ever about casual affection. “You bought new jewelry?”

“Oh my god Sollux, why do you have to be such an alien all the time?” He frowns and she laughs, leaning against the counter beside him and gazing adoringly at her new ring. Roxy’s never quite been able to put to words the specific sort of thrill she gets from pushing Sollux Captor’s buttons, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to stop anytime soon.

“It’s an engagement ring,” she explains. “Human boyfriend has officially made the transition to human fiance.”

“Oh.” Sollux sighs. “Well, forgive my lack of excitement, Lalonde. It’s an experience I can’t exactly relate to on, you know, any level whatsoever.”

“Now you’re just being melodramatic.”

“Nah, I just think it’s fucking weird that you’re making some kind of commitment to this dude you’ve been seeing for what? A few months? Not even that?” He snorts. “But I guess if I had the right to have literally _any_ of my relationships legally recognized, I’d flaunt that shit all over the place, too.”

“Hey, Captor? I know this might come as a huge surprise, but this has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you.” Roxy lifts herself onto the countertop opposite Sollux, helping herself to a banana from the hook underneath the cabinet. “The fuck would you want to marry, anyway? That clingy little shit you were dating while I was overseas?”

“Okay, can you fucking _not?_ ”

Sollux whips around to see her wagging her eyebrows at him, the tip of her tongue dragging a little circle over the end of the freshly-peeled banana. Before she can bite into it, a crackle of blue and red rends the fruit into yellow mush that splatters across her face and her shirt.

“Sollux, you fucking _freak_!” Roxy groans, flinging the empty banana peel at Sollux and snatching up a dish towel.

“Maybe if I hadn’t been freaking out so damn much about getting caught, I wouldn’t have fucked that relationship up so bad. You think of that, Lalonde?”

“Yeah, a little. But, frankly? It just sounds like classic Sollux Captor to me.” She grins. “I mean come on, if it hadn’t been your crippling fear of hugs, your browser history would have come up at some point.”

“Seriously? Did you just come over here to fucking antagonize me, or--”

“Yeah, I did, because I know it makes you feel better, you fucking weirdo.” Roxy sighs, tossing the dish towel over the sink faucet and sliding down off the counter. “So I guess your test flight kinda bombed today, huh?”

“It didn’t even fucking _happen_ ,” Sollux groans, shaking his head, shoulders slumping as the fight goes out of him. “Hey, do you want a beer? I’ve had like...three? And I only need one for the reduction.”

“Oh! Uh. None for me tonight, I gotta ride to the restaurant. I’d love to watch you drunk-cook while I do my makeup, though.” Roxy winks, pulling the stained uniform shirt over her head and tossing it up to catch on Sollux’s horns before heading back into the living room. “I’m still listening, by the way! But I’m also naked, so don’t look!”

Sollux rolls his eyes, flinging the black polo shirt draped over his horns onto the cluttered dining table.

“Tell me more about your shitty day, though!” Roxy insists. “Also, is my jumpsuit still here?”

“Yeah, it should be in the closet by the door. I don’t know how the hell it ended up here...”

“Oh, thank god. _That_ would have been one hella awkward ride. So did your flight get postponed or what?”

“Not just that, but the entire project is pretty much indefinitely on hold.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me!” There’s a thud from the living room, and a bit of muttered swearing before Roxy continues. “Psyclone’s like, one of the biggest projects they’re working on, and it’s just about ready for deployment, isn’t it? I mean especially after the improvements you recommended?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking weird. They’ve got me testing some new flight system now, what the fuck else is new...”

“Shit, Captor, that sucks.” She appears in the kitchen again, her work uniform traded for a pink lace dress with a cutout back, her hair loose from the tight bun she wears at work and held out of the way with one hand as she glances expectantly over her shoulder at Sollux.

“Uh. Wow. Yeah, it’d be pretty awkward. Riding your bike in that, I mean.”

“Buttons, Captor!”

“Oh, right.”

She feels the warm little surge of psionic energy as the closures at the top of the dress fasten themselves, shivering when it flashes across her skin and fades to nothing.

“Don’t get fresh with me, now.”

“Whatever you say, Lalonde. But yeah, this new system they have me working on actually isn’t that terrible. We’ve never used anything like it before, but it looks like the data came from Edwards.”

“Edwards, huh? That’s... interesting.”

“Yeah? Anyway it wasn’t bad until General Crowe came in and started getting in my fucking face about, you know, being a stupid bug and stuff, so all the good feeling was gone pretty much instantly.”

“Man, _fuck_ Crowe,” Roxy mutters, setting herself up at the table to work on her makeup.

“I’d rather not,” Sollux responds with a smirk.

“Ew. Seriously, though, Crowe was flapping all over Sensors today. I think this new project I’m working on might be a big deal. Or maybe yours is. Or maybe they’re related, since they both lead back to Edwards.”

“I don’t know, Lalonde, all I know is--” Sollux is interrupted by the sound of Roxy’s cell phone. “Is that the human fiance?”

“Yeah, hang on...”

“Tell him you have my blessing if I can be your maid of honor.”

“You mean honor attendant?”

“Hell no, I want the dress.”

Roxy shakes her head, taking the call in the living room, and Sollux keeps working at the counter, only hearing the occasional bit of conversation from her end.

_Yeah, I’m at Captor’s... of course I told him! … no, why would he be pissed at you? … well, whatever, I’ll meet you in an hour? … oh. Really? This late at night? … No, it’s fine. It’s fine! Love you, too._

She comes back into the kitchen with a sigh, and her eyes immediately settle on the open bottle of imperial stout sitting by the stove. Sollux notices her noticing, quietly pouring the contents into a saucepan on the back burner and dropping the empty bottle into the trash. She slides her arms around his waist, hiding her face in the back of his shirt, and can’t help but smile when she feels him tense and slowly relax.

“Are you sure _you’re_ not the clingy little shit, Lalonde?” Sollux asks gently, and she laughs.

“Is it too late to ask if you can cook for two?” Roxy asks softly.

“Of course not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I think I've got this story back on track! Thanks for bein patient with me guys. Also check out Roxy in her dress :)  
> http://mulattafury.tumblr.com/post/47920254628/roxy-as-she-appears-in-the-next-chapter-of


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